The Machinery Of Light Part 34

The Operative can see how nasty it must have been. The sleepers came awake in tandem with the dismemberment of the s.h.i.+p's zone. He wonders whether they were rigged from the start, or whether this is some recent innovation.

"No wonder the fleet's in lockdown," says Lynx.

"Just one reason among many," says the Operative.

They're making haste inside the armor of one of the two largest s.h.i.+ps ever built. Occasionally the shudder of the receding engines is joined by other vibrations-American shots smas.h.i.+ng against the hull. If anything makes it through, they'll be the first to know. Yet now that they've got a little margin, Spencer's doing a little thinking.

"Manilis.h.i.+," he says.

"My name's Claire," says the voice.

"Where are you?"

"Right inside your head."

"I mean really-"

"Does it matter?"

"Are the Rain still out there?"

"They're too busy to worry about you for now."

"And Sinclair?"

"What about him?"

"Is he up here too?"

"I doubt it."

He was earlier, though. She's sure of it. Sinclair was up at L5 back when she hacked into his cell a week earlier, and subsequently managed to get himself off that fleet. Maybe he used a teleporter to do so. Maybe he left by more prosaic means. And as to when-his mental presence on the lip of the South Pole was indeterminate. His mental presence during the interrogation with Montrose seemed seemed to emanate from L5. The problem is, she's not sure what Sinclair's capable of. He may have wanted her to think he was still at L5 back then. to emanate from L5. The problem is, she's not sure what Sinclair's capable of. He may have wanted her to think he was still at L5 back then.

But there's no way he could be there now-otherwise she would never have been able to put the Rain triad under such pressure. That triad's going to ground now, camo on maximum as they vanish into the less trafficked areas of the s.h.i.+p. She's wis.h.i.+ng she could do the same within the Moon. Because the s.p.a.ceCom forces are still closing in on her. She can picture all those suits blasting through the shafts of Moon-can almost see see the repurposed mining vehicles sliding into position. She wishes that her map wasn't just confined to the main route she's trying to take-that she had more data to go on. She can only tell the surrounding routes by the position of her pursuers. They're accelerating now, and she's accelerating with them, stretching her suit to the limits of its capacity. Stretching her mind too- the repurposed mining vehicles sliding into position. She wishes that her map wasn't just confined to the main route she's trying to take-that she had more data to go on. She can only tell the surrounding routes by the position of her pursuers. They're accelerating now, and she's accelerating with them, stretching her suit to the limits of its capacity. Stretching her mind too- The key is to keep moving. And shooting-the five men are formed up in what's essentially a mini-phalanx, the Operative and Lynx on the front, Maschler and Riley on the flanks, Linehan on rearguard. They're gunning down the colonists in swathes-interlocking fields of fire that mow down everything before them. Yet the Operative somehow feels at one with the people he's killing. He can't blame them, really-even if whatever program's in them was somehow factored out-if you dreamt of Mars and woke instead to h.e.l.l, you might just choose to contribute to it. But all that matters now is the section of the Memphis Memphis they're closing on. They blow down more doors, head on through, the b.l.o.o.d.y horde swirling around them. they're closing on. They blow down more doors, head on through, the b.l.o.o.d.y horde swirling around them.

They're picking up speed now, shooting the length of the s.h.i.+p as it hurtles in toward the Moon. They're still alive. Still in the dark as well.

"What makes you so sure Sinclair's not up here?"

"If he was, you'd be dead," she says.

"Why are you helping us?" he asks.

"Because I can."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

Though the truth of the matter is that she's not exactly sure herself. Part of her thinks she should just be letting the Rain finish these guys off. Three less players to contend with. Only-Spencer's no player. Not now that she can reach inside his mind at will. She could reduce him to a drooling meat-puppet if she wanted. But she doesn't need to. She senses he's different from the rest of them anyway-that he's really just trying to keep his head above water. She gets all this because she's right inside him-can see the way he's been used and manipulated by those above him. She empathizes with him even as she's busy doing the same thing herself-even as her s.p.a.ceCom pursuers start to draw the noose.

A couple of cl.u.s.ter bombs, and they're storming through into the front section of the s.h.i.+p. The mob's doing its best to keep pace with them, but as the terrain narrows, so do their numbers. It's close quarters now, and the five men are firing at point-blank range, running electricity through their suits to zap any flesh that touches them. Yet some of that flesh is clinging to them anyway. The danger of a pile-on is growing. The Operative and Lynx haul open the doors to the bridge, then turn in the doorway and start firing past the men behind them. couple of cl.u.s.ter bombs, and they're storming through into the front section of the s.h.i.+p. The mob's doing its best to keep pace with them, but as the terrain narrows, so do their numbers. It's close quarters now, and the five men are firing at point-blank range, running electricity through their suits to zap any flesh that touches them. Yet some of that flesh is clinging to them anyway. The danger of a pile-on is growing. The Operative and Lynx haul open the doors to the bridge, then turn in the doorway and start firing past the men behind them.

Doing the lady's bidding: they head through blast-doors, exit the hull's interior, and start maneuvering through the innards of the s.h.i.+p. Explosions reach their ears, along with gunfire- "What the h.e.l.l did you do to this s.h.i.+p?" Spencer asks.

"f.u.c.ked it," says Haskell.

"And where the h.e.l.l are we going?"

She tells him. He doesn't seem that surprised.

And that's just as well. Because she's got other s.h.i.+t to worry about. She's now more than ten klicks beneath the lunar surface. The tendrils of the s.p.a.ceCom vanguards are about to touch. She's trying to pa.s.s straight between them-a margin way too narrow for comfort.

The bridge of the Memphis Memphis is in shambles. Linehan gets busy sliding the doors shut on manual while Riley and Maschler fire through the narrowing opening. The Operative and Lynx are working the controls. The L2 fleet is panorama in the windows ... is in shambles. Linehan gets busy sliding the doors shut on manual while Riley and Maschler fire through the narrowing opening. The Operative and Lynx are working the controls. The L2 fleet is panorama in the windows ...

"What do you think?" says Lynx.

"Doable," says the Operative.

Especially because they don't need to get complete control of the s.h.i.+p. Just- "Bingo," says the Operative.

The engines of the Memphis Memphis fire. fire.

So what's she got to say?" asks Sarmax.

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with us," says Jarvin. "It's not like you're coming up with all this yourself."

"You guys have been talking," says Spencer.

"And you've been too busy to join in."

"It's keeping us alive, isn't it?"

"But now the Manilis.h.i.+'s calling the shots?"

"s.h.i.+t," says Spencer-he's staring out into an elevator shaft. It's total chaos. Elevator cars have rammed each other, collapsed down the shaft. Suits are strafing each other while other suits rip unarmored bodies apart. Spencer counts at least ten different fire-fights. Sarmax whistles.

"I like it," he says.

She's feeling the same way, looking out through Spencer's eyes as he gazes down the shaft and starts moving toward an auxiliary one that promises safer pa.s.sage. Back on the Moon, she lets her mental tendrils drape over the minds of the oncoming s.p.a.ceCom soldiers, gets ready to apply the pressure.

The Memphis Memphis picks up steam. s.h.i.+ps start sliding in the window. One s.h.i.+p in particular is drawing closer. picks up steam. s.h.i.+ps start sliding in the window. One s.h.i.+p in particular is drawing closer.

There's a pounding on the door.

"Faster," says the Operative. says the Operative.

"We're powering up as quick as we can," says Lynx.

"They're trying to break in," says Riley.

"More than just trying," says Linehan. "Shall we blow all hatches and feed them to the vacuum?"

"You'll do nothing of the kind," says the Operative.

"They're about to come in useful," says Lynx.

They're heading to their destination the less-traveled way. Certainly the less fought over. They head up ladders-hauling aside bodies-moving through rooms that have already been charred black with explosions.

"At least this s.h.i.+p's still flying," says Sarmax.

"For now," mutters Jarvin.

She monitors the situation with bated breath. If she's wrong about all this, then the Rain are going to be on them any moment. Just as the s.p.a.ceCom forces are now on her her-she slams her mind forward- The superdreadnaught Harrison Harrison is right in the path of the is right in the path of the Memphis Memphis. Its gunnery officers are targeting the oncoming s.h.i.+p, only to find that their guns have been hacked.

"Nice one," says Lynx.

"Just getting started," says the Operative.

The rest of the fleet's having the same problem. The Harrison's Harrison's engines fire. It starts hauling away. But momentum's a b.i.t.c.h sometimes. The engines fire. It starts hauling away. But momentum's a b.i.t.c.h sometimes. The Memphis Memphis is coming on like a juggernaut. The is coming on like a juggernaut. The Harrison Harrison fills the window ... fills the window ...

"Let's get the f.u.c.k out of here," says the Operative.

They're moving cautiously past twisted machinery and sprawled bodies, half expecting to get jumped by that Rain triad. But Spencer sees no sign of it. There's no sign of the zone either. Save for a very faint glimmer dead ahead.

-almost like the light of the minds that she's now slamming against. As the impact of her blows resounds within her skull, she feels spirits just shatter shatter. Minds writhe, wink out like stars extinguished. She's charging right in between the reeling s.p.a.ceCom vanguards now. She thinks she gets a glimpse of driverless machinery cras.h.i.+ng against tunnel walls- They blast down the doors and into the seething mob, fighting their way back the way they came. It's as if every wayward colonist is waiting for them, seeking to overwhelm them. The Operative can see they're about to get buried. Which might have its silver lining. Especially with the collision alarms sounding in the c.o.c.kpit they've just left.

They head through into a room they recognize: the c.o.c.kpit access chamber. It looked a little more stately back on the other megas.h.i.+p, though. Now it's an utter f.u.c.king mess. Bodies are everywhere. But the combat's finished here. They haul open the elevator doors, enter the access shaft- And she jets through them and nothing's touching her. The s.p.a.ceCom forces are reeling in disarray. She's dropping deeper into Moon, and they can't stop her. But her intuition's screaming ever louder- A terrible cracking noise as the terrible cracking noise as the Memphis Memphis slices into the slices into the Harrison Harrison. The walls start tearing away to reveal more walls-those of the Harrison Harrison itself. The Operative and his team fire their jets, blasting away from the colonists. The itself. The Operative and his team fire their jets, blasting away from the colonists. The Memphis Memphis plows ever farther into the plows ever farther into the Harrison Harrison, bodies pouring into vacuum- Through the shaft and into the c.o.c.kpit of the Righteous Fire-Dragon Righteous Fire-Dragon. The three men move from room to room, looking for anything living. They can't find anything worth the name.

"Now what?" says Sarmax.

"Now we make ourselves comfortable," says Spencer.

She's at full throttle, plunging headfirst, her jets adding to the speed of her descent down the shaft. She's gotten past the s.p.a.ceCom forces. The nuke they've fired after her is a different story. It gets within half a klick before it detonates.

The Memphis Memphis has thoroughly embedded itself in the has thoroughly embedded itself in the Harrison Harrison. And the ones who put it there are hitting the s.p.a.ceCom flags.h.i.+p in textbook fas.h.i.+on. The three mechs get out ahead, butchering everything in their path. The two razors trail in their wake, their minds leaping out ahead to f.u.c.k the defenses. The Harrison Harrison is plunging into chaos. The situation isn't helped by the thousands of psychotic colonists pouring into the s.h.i.+p and attacking everything in sight. It's total carnage. The Operative's loving every moment. His zone-view shows Linehan cutting inside the bridge's outer perimeter. is plunging into chaos. The situation isn't helped by the thousands of psychotic colonists pouring into the s.h.i.+p and attacking everything in sight. It's total carnage. The Operative's loving every moment. His zone-view shows Linehan cutting inside the bridge's outer perimeter.

Something wrong?" asks Sarmax.

"I just lost Haskell," says Spencer.

And he's wondering how the h.e.l.l they're supposed to keep the Rain at bay now. They're doing what they can. They've mined the elevator shaft and strewn it with sensors capable of detecting anything down to nano. They've found an escape shaft and mined that, too.

"There's no other way in," says Jarvin.

"Search this place again," says Sarmax.

The nuke ignites apocalypse in her mind-fries her circuitry, leaves her with nothing but static. It's not just her software that's affected either-not just her view onto the zone. It's also her access to the telepathy, the glimpses of other minds-all of it. It's all gone, and she's falling into herself as her body plunges ever farther- G.o.d this is good," says Lynx.

The Operative nods. He's feeling it too. He'd almost forgotten how lethal Lynx and he are when they combine their minds like this. Subterfuge and stealth are one thing. Frontal a.s.sault's another. There's nothing like it. Especially when they've got three of the best mechs alive running point, smas.h.i.+ng through all resistance, detonating barricades and- "We're in," says Linehan.

They're going through the c.o.c.kpit again, searching every nook and cranny, pulling the covers off consoles, running scans, looking for false s.p.a.ces and hollow walls. Spencer wanders into one of the adjacent rooms. There's something about it he can't quite place. It seems like a dead end.

But then he hears a voice.

In the absence of external stimuli the mind creates its own. Claire Haskell knows this. But that knowledge isn't helping. The voices in her head are really coming out to play. Some are her own. Many aren't. None are saying anything coherent. Most of them aren't even speaking English. They're babbling in languages she can't even identify, and she's trying not to listen. She wonders if they've been here all along-wonders if she's going to die. Maybe she already has. The fact that she can see a staircase up ahead doesn't clarify things in the slightest.

Check it out," says Lynx.

The Operative says nothing-just follows Lynx as he strides onto the bridge of the Harrison Harrison, which is about as large as one would expect for the flags.h.i.+p of the L2 fleet. Stairs lead up to an enclosed inner bridge. The walls are alive with window-screens-dominated by the Moon, with the ma.s.sed Eurasian fleets splayed out beyond. Several officers are dead on the floor. But most of the bridge's crew are still alive-though they clearly aren't expecting to stay that way. They're staring at the three mechs who've just shot their colleagues who tried to resist. The Operative pats Linehan on the shoulder.

"Nice one," he says.

Lyle Spencer," says the voice.

Spencer whirls. It's coming from one of the consoles. For a moment he thinks someone's hiding in the d.a.m.n thing. But then he gets with the program.

"How the f.u.c.k do you know my name?"

"Claire Haskell told me."

She's heading down those stairs. They look to be fairly recent in construction. Which might even be good news. It means she might be back on track. The vehicle that's sitting at the bottom of the stairs is further indication.

The Operative scans the screens within his head. Everything's checking out. The Harrison Harrison is in his hands. He and Lynx have already taken control of the flags.h.i.+p's connections with the rest of the fleet, and have been broadcasting about how the rebel units from the is in his hands. He and Lynx have already taken control of the flags.h.i.+p's connections with the rest of the fleet, and have been broadcasting about how the rebel units from the Memphis Memphis are in custody and that the bridge is now secure. Linehan and Maschler and Riley are making it more so-sealing doors, getting emergency barricades up. The Operative and Lynx walk up the stairs to the inner bridge. are in custody and that the bridge is now secure. Linehan and Maschler and Riley are making it more so-sealing doors, getting emergency barricades up. The Operative and Lynx walk up the stairs to the inner bridge.

Spencer's at a loss. He stares at the console from which the voice is being projected. "Haskell told you who I was?"

"For sure. Sarmax and Jarvin too-hi guys." This last as the two men walk up behind Spencer.

"And who the f.u.c.k are are you?" asks Sarmax. you?" asks Sarmax.

"Was might be a better word."

The vehicle's a modified crawler-a long-range explorer, tailor-made for rough underground terrain, with short-use rockets to navigate the more vertical s.p.a.ces. She opens up the vehicle's door on manual, climbs in, and seals it. It feels good to get off her feet. It's even better to be able to replenish her oxygen. She lets her suit drink its fill while she starts the crawler, then resumes the descent into lunar incognita.

The inner bridge of the s.p.a.ceCom flags.h.i.+p contains certain things. The rear admiral of the L2 fleet. Two flag officers. And- "The codes," says the Operative.

Rear Admiral Griffin looks up at him with an expression that's one of near total disdain. "You expect me to give the executive codes for this fleet to a bandit?" he asks.

"I guess not," says the Operative, and fires a shot into Griffin's neck. The rear admiral pitches backward, starts dying noisily. The Operative looks at the flag officers.

"Your turn," he says.

Look around you," says the voice. "I was in charge of all of this. Until that she-demon turned my mind inside out-"

"You're AI," says Jarvin.